Monday, 27 July 2015

Following on from my last post, I thought it might be a nice idea to type up one of B. M. Croker's ghost stories, so you can get an idea of the style and content of her tales. You can read it here on this site, or you can read the pdf by clicking here. Enjoy!

'NUMBER NINETY'By B. M. CrokerFirst published in Chapman's Magazine of Fiction, December 1895

‘To let furnished, for a term of years, at a very low rental, a large old-fashioned family residence, comprising eleven bed-rooms, four reception-rooms, dressing-rooms, two stair-cases, complete servants’ offices, ample accommodation for a Gentleman’s establishment, including six-stall stable, coach-house, etc.’

The above advertisement referred to number ninety. For a period extending over some years this notice appeared spasmodically in various daily papers. Occasionally you saw it running for a week or a fortnight at a stretch, as if it were resolved to force itself into consideration by sheer persistency. Sometimes for months I looked for it in vain. Other ignorant folk might possibly fancy that the effort of the house agent had been crowned at last with success — that it was let, and no longer in the market.

I knew better. I knew that it would never, never find a tenant as long as oak and ash endured. I knew that it was passed on as a hopeless case, from house-agent to house-agent. I knew that it would never be occupied, save by rats — and, more than this, I knew the reason why!

I will not say in what square, street, or road number ninety may be found, nor will I divulge to any human being its precise and exact locality, but this I’m prepared to state, that it is positively in existence, is in London, and is still empty.

Twenty years ago, this very Christmas, my friend John Hollyoak (civil engineer) and I were guests at a bachelor’s party; partaking, in company with eight other celibates, of a very recherché little dinner, in the neighbourhood of Piccadilly. Conversation became very brisk, as the champagne circulated, and many topics were started, discussed, and dismissed.

They (I say they advisedly, as I myself am a man of few words) talked on an extraordinary variety of subjects.

I distinctly recollect a long argument on mushrooms — mushrooms, murders, racing, cholera; from cholera we came to sudden death, from sudden death to churchyards, and from churchyards, it was naturally but a step to ghosts.

On this last topic the arguments became fast and furious, for the company was divided into two camps. The larger, ‘the opposition,’ who scoffed, sneered, and snapped their fingers, and laughed with irritating contempt at the very name of ghosts, was headed by John Hollyoak; the smaller party, who were dogged, angry, and prepared to back their opinions to any extent, had for their leader our host, a bald-headed man of business, whom I certainly would have credited (as I mentally remarked) with more sense.

The believers in the supernatural obtained a hearing, so far as to relate one or two blood-curdling, first or second-hand experiences, which, when concluded, instead of being received with an awe-struck and respectful silence, were pooh-poohed, with shouts of laughter, and taunting suggestions that were by no means complimentary to the intelligence, or sobriety, of the victims of superstition. Argument and counter-argument waxed louder and hotter, and there was every prospect of a very stormy conclusion to the evening’s entertainment.

John Hollyoak, who was the most vehement, the most incredulous, the most jocular, and the most derisive of the anti-ghost faction, brought matters to a climax by declaring that nothing would give him greater pleasure than to pass a night in a haunted house — and the worse its character, the better he would be pleased!

His challenge was instantly taken up by our somewhat ruffled host, who warmly assured him that his wishes could be easily satisfied, and that he would be accommodated with a night’s lodging in a haunted house within twenty-four hours — in fact, in a house of such a desperate reputation, that even the adjoining mansions stood vacant.

He then proceeded to give a brief outline of the history of number ninety. It had once been the residence of a well-known country family, but what evil events had happened therein tradition did not relate.

On the death of the last owner — a diabolical looking aged person, much resembling the typical wizard — it had passed into the hands of a kinsman, resident abroad, who had no wish to return to England, and who desired his agents to let it, if they could — a most significant proviso!

Year by year went by, and still this ‘Highly desirable family mansion’ could find no tenant, although the rent was reduced, and reduced, and again reduced, to almost zero!

The most ghastly whispers were afloat — the most terrible experiences were actually proclaimed on the housetops!

No tenant would remain, even gratis; and for the last ten years, this, ‘handsome, desirable town family residence’ had been the abode of rats by day, and something else by night — so said the neighbours.

Of course it was the very thing for John, and he snatched up the gauntlet on the spot. He scoffed at its evil repute, and solemnly promised to rehabilitate its character within a week.

It was in vain that he was solemnly warned — that one of his fellow guests gravely assured him ‘that he would not pass a night in number ninety for ninety thousand pounds — it would be the price of his reason.’

‘You value your reason at a very high figure,’ replied John, with an indulgent smile. ‘I will venture mine for nothing.'

Sunday, 19 July 2015

Bithia Mary Croker (1849~1920) was one of the most well-known novelists of her day. She produced more than forty novels and seven short story collections. In 1871, she married John Stokes Croker, of the 21st Royal Scots and Munster Fusiliers, and, as was customary at the time, accompanied her husband to India, where she remained for fourteen years, and where six of the fifteen tales in this collection are set. Nowadays, as with so many talented Victorian and Edwardian writers, she is all but forgotten by most of the reading public.

"Number Ninety" and Other Ghost Stories was published by Sarob Press as a limited edition of 250 copies in 2000. It is the third volume in their Mistresses of the Macabre series. The tales it contains are: "Number Ninety", The Former Passengers, "If You See Her Face", The Red Bungalow, The Khitmatgar, Her Last Wishes, The Dâk Bungalow at Dakor, "To Let", The North Verandah, The First Comer, Trooper Thompson's Information, Who Knew the Truth?, La Carcassonne, Mrs. Ponsonby's Dream, The Door Ajar.

The first tale, 'Number Ninety', is taken from the Christmas Number of Chapman's Maga-zine of Fiction for 1895. At a rowdy bachelor's party, the discussion turns to ghosts and John Hollyoak, the most outspoken and derisive of the non-believers, declares that he wishes to spend the night in a haunted house. So, the host of the party, who is a believer and a tad ruffled at being ridiculed for it, arranges for him to do just that.

'The Former Passengers' originally appeared in To Let, published by Chatto & Windus in 1893. Mr Lawrence is on his way to Singapore to give his sister away at her wedding and, having missed the steamer he intended to catch, persuades Captain Blane to take him in his cargo boat, the Wandering Star. His accommodation is fine and he thinks he's rather lucky to be travelling on the Star, until they steamer hits bad weather.

"If You See Her Face" first appeared in To Let. Daniel Gregson, political agent to a Rajah, and his assistant, Percy Goring, are travelling to the Delhi durbar when their train is prevented from going on by a break in the line. Gregson decides they should head for the Raja's isolated hunting palace in Kori on foot. They are warned by an old woman not to enter the Khana palace, as it's a place where 'If you see her face - you die!'

'The Red Bungalow' first appeared in Odds and Ends, published by Hutchinson in 1919. In it, Netta Fellowes, newly relocated with her husband to Kulu, India, decides to move into the Red Bungalow, which has been unoccupied for years. Her cousin tries to persuade her against the move, as the place has a bad reputation, but Netta will not listen and takes the bungalow regardless... with terrible consequences.

'The Khitmatgar' first appeared in To Let. The Jacksons' finances are at a very low ebb and they have travelled to Panipore in search of employment. The only lodgings they can find are at the long-uninhabited bungalow in the Paiwene road, but the bungalow is haunted by a murdered servant.

'Her Last Wishes' was published in In the Kingdom of Kerry (Chatto & Windus, 1896). Rev. Eustace Herbert is sent off travelling around India, after having a physical breakdown, and is invited to stay at the home of an old school friend, Mr St. Maur, who has a coffee estate in the Madras Presidency. He is settled in the guest bedroom, but finds that he is not its only resident.

'The Dâk Bungalow at Dakor' was first published in To Let. Mrs Goodchild and Mrs Lloyd are travelling from Karwassa to Chanda to see their husbands for Christmas. After a bit of bullock trouble, the two women are forced to stay the night in a travellers' bungalow at Dakor that hasn't been used for seven years, where experiences after nightfall lead to the solving of an old crime.

"To Let" first appeared in To Let. Having left it very late in the season to travel into the hills from Lucknor, to escape the terrible summer heat, Aggie Shandon asks for a friend's help in locating accommodation for herself, her two children and her sister-in-law, Susan. There is only one property available - Briarwood - and it is amazingly cheap. The two women are incredibly pleased with their summer home, until they hit monsoon season and the reason for the low rent makes itself apparent.

'The North Verandah' was first published in Odds and Ends. It's a rather gory tale set in Kentucky. A chance meeting in a Swiss hotel brings together the English Dormer sisters, Marion and Lucy, and their distant relations the American Washington-Dormers. Following their European trip, Marion and Lucy travel to Kentucky to visit their American cousins' home, Rochelle, but the house has a bad history and Marion experiences rather more than an afternoon's quiet reading when she decides to sit alone on the north verandah.

'The First Comer' was published in In the Kingdom of Kerry. Miss Janet MacTavish and her sister Matilda are a couple of well-to-do Edinburgh spinsters. Matilda is ill with bronchitis and wakes in the wee small hours wanting a cup of tea. Her sister makes her way down towards the kitchen in the dark, preparing to light the fire and boil the water for the tea, but someone is already in the kitchen, raking the coals in the pitch black of the night.

'Trooper Thompson's Information' was published in Jason, and Other Stories (Chatto & Windus, 1899). The narrator, Thompson, is a trooper in the Australian mounted police. A fellow trooper, Ned Martin, goes missing and Thompson is charged with finding him. The days pass and he is no nearer finding out what has happened to his comrade, until he receives a night visit from Martin's ghost.

'Who Knew the Truth?' was published in The Old Cantonment and Other Stories (Methuen, 1905). The narrator, Vernon, travels to South Carolina with his brother-in-law and two other men. After a day of shooting in sweltering heat, the party is guided to a nearby house for the night, during which the narrator is woken by a soft, repeated knocking... the sound of an 'empty rocking chair, in vigorous motion!'

'La Carcassonne' was published in The Old Cantonment and Other Stories. Mrs Letty Wagstaff and her companion Miss Fanny Tarr are spending the season on the French Riviera. Miss Tarr purchases an opal ring, and it has a considerable effect upon her character, turning an ordinarily timid, quiet, teetotal spinster into a chatty, reckless, champagne-swilling gambler and reader of notorious novels.

'Mrs. Ponsonby's Dream' was published in Jason, and Other Stories. In it, Mrs Sally Ponsonby has a prophetic dream concerning a planned visit to her brother's house and the criminal intentions of his new butler.

'The Door Ajar' was published in The Old Cantonment and Other Stories. In it, the narrator and her brother, Hubert, are staying in the south of France. Along with fellow inmates of their hotel, they visit Chateau de la Vaye, near the Spanish border. While looking at the paintings within the old house, the youngest member of the group remembers events from a previous life.

"Number Ninety" and Other Ghost Stories isn't all that easy to get hold of now. A fine copy in a similarly fine jacket will cost about £90 (around $135), if you can find one. It's not easy to get hold of Croker's stories anywhere else either, but 'Number Ninety' appeared in Richard Dalby's Ghosts for Christmas, 'To Let' was published in The Oxford Book of Victorian Ghost Stories, and 'The Dâk Bungalow at Dakor' can be found in Late Victorian Gothic Tales, published by Oxford University Press, which is available as a Kindle ebook or a paperback.

'A fig for men and women who brag of what they do not believe!... if he can't believe because he cannot imagine anything that he cannot handle, what shall we say of him but that he is an intellectual cripple?' ~ Augustus Jessopp (The Dying Out of the Marvellous).

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'No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream.' ~ Shirley Jackson (The Haunting of Hill House)